


A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

by LouLa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/5001.html?thread=4574601#t4574601">this</a> 1dkinkmeme prompt: Someone slips an aphrodisiac into Liam's drink, and the boys initially just think he's got a fever, so Louis offers to take him home. Cue Liam demanding to be fucked as soon as they get to his room...which means Louis has to take care of him until it gets out of his system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

**Author's Note:**

> Title is obviously borrowed and not my own. Respective rights to the owners, blah blah, Panic! At The Disco, no copyright infringement intended, etc etc. As always, much much love to Boo for putting up with me.

“Waiter,” Liam calls a little frantically, waving his hand, gesticulating wildly.

Harry and Zayn are deep in a conversation bent over Harry's phone ― Louis highly suspects that tits are somehow involved ― and Niall is enamored with the appetizers that have already been brought over, so it's only Louis who notices Liam's frankly _odd_ behavior.

The waiter comes back, smiling politely even as Liam shoves his empty wine glass at him quite rudely. The glass gets topped off quickly, and before the waiter has a chance to turn away, Liam is gulping at it, huge mouthfuls that threaten to spill out from the corners of his lips. Within just moments, the glass is drained, and both Louis and the waiter are left gaping.

“Another,” Liam demands, quickly tacking on a, “please,” when his glass is not immediately being filled.

The waiter hesitates before moving to refill and Louis snaps out of his shock, reaching out hurriedly across the table to grab the empty glass before any more wine can spill into it.

“No,” he says firmly, looking at Liam in complete astonishment. “No more for him, thank you.”

The waiter seems grateful to flee the scene and Liam loudly protests, “No!” He's making grabby hands at the retreating bottle of wine and Louis is left speechless again. “Louis,” he whines, turning toward him to give him the most betrayed look Louis has ever seen.

“What–” Louis cuts himself off, unsure of where he was even going with his question. “Liam, are you okay?” he asks carefully.

The concern in his tone doesn't seem to affect Liam at all. “Stellar, mate,” he answers easily, reaching for the glass of ice water set before him. He drains that in a few hurried chugs, and then flails forward to grab for Louis' as well.

Louis scoops it up quickly, pulling it out of reach. “Liam, you can't–”

Liam's knee smashes into the table when he desperately tries to grasp at it anyway, despite it obviously being completely out of his reach. The sound cuts Louis off before he can remind Liam that he _can't_ drink so much, his kidney is going to have a fit if he does ― and the fact that he'd have to remind Liam that is nearly the most disconcerting thing yet, because Liam is always careful about that.

“Liam, you alright?” Harry asks, his attention obviously having been diverted from his phone at all the commotion.

“You're sweating,” Zayn chimes in. They both sound as concerned as Louis feels.

Louis notices it then, the dark flush over Liam's cheeks, the sweat on his brow. He's got a glassy look to his eyes. When he raises his arm to wipe away the sweat beaded on his forehead, Louis can see the wet stains at his pits, soaked through.

“It's hot in here,” Liam says. “I just want a drink and Louis won't let me.”

Confused, Harry offers up his glass of water and Louis chokes out a hurried, “No.” He jumps up from his seat and crosses around to the other side of the table, snatching the glass out of Harry's hand, and nearly spilling the whole damn thing when Liam makes a grab at it. “He's had three glasses of wine and a whole glass of water. He's overdoing it.”

“He's just thirsty?” Zayn states it like a question, his confusion and concern obvious as he stares at Liam.

As Liam makes another determined attempt to reach for the glass, Louis catches his arm, fingers tight around Liam's wrist. The skin beneath Louis' fingers is _hot_ to the touch, and in his surprise, Louis nearly lets him go again, but quickly tightens his hold.

“You're burning up,” he says.

Liam looks up at him, his lower lip clamped between teeth. His pupils have gone all strange, and Louis can feel his worry making his own skin prickle with sweat, stomach heavy with nervousness.

“Something's wrong,” Louis says. He pushes the glass of water out of reach, confident his grip on Liam's wrist will hold him back if he tries to reach for it. Surprisingly, he doesn't, just continues to stare up at Louis with this look that is somehow blank and heated at the same time. Louis lays his palm flat against Liam's forehead, and Liam finally breaks his gaze as his eyes flutter shut. The heat against Louis' hand makes his frown deepen and he doesn't look away from Liam to tell the boys, “He's got a fever, I'm taking him back to the hotel.”

“Just let me get the check,” Harry says, already pushing up from the table.

And it's bad timing, but Louis is struck with this overwhelming sense of fondness. It hits him hard right then just how much he loves his bandmates, and how much they all love each other, so willing to drop _anything_ for one another. Even Niall is staring around the table with a look of deep concern, ready to pack up and head out, forget about the plans they had for their night off because Liam isn't okay.

“No,” Louis says then, turning to Harry though he keeps his hand around Liam's wrist. “You guys stay, don't worry. I'll take him back, I've got him. Enjoy your night, yeah?” he says earnestly.

Harry's half standing, half sitting and he looks so unsure that it makes the corners of Louis' mouth untuck a little, turning up just slightly. “You're sure?” Harry asks, meeting Louis' eyes firmly.

“Yes. If there's any problems, I'll call. Keep your phone on?”

Harry nods at that, and Louis turns back to Liam to find him frowning down at his lap, shifting around in his seat.

“Li, we're going back to the hotel, love,” Louis says, sliding his fingers up from Liam's wrist to his hand, twining them together. “Come on.”

Liam blinks up at him owlishly. “I feel funny,” he mumbles, touching at his own mouth with his free hand. “I feel like I...” he trails off, biting down firmly on his bottom lip once again.

Louis tugs patiently at his arm. “I know, we're going back to the hotel now. You're fine to walk, aren't you?” he asks, suddenly terrified maybe this is more extreme than he'd originally thought. What if Liam needs to be hospitalized? What if it's something really serious?

His mind runs away from him for only a moment as Liam stands, swaying slightly. Louis quickly wraps his arm around Liam's waist to steady him and Liam sags against him, stumbling almost drunkenly.

Louis would never admit to it, but he's very pleased when Zayn swoops in on Liam's other side and helps him lead their lanky mate from the building, trying not to cause any more of a disturbance. Liam has gone frighteningly quiet and only manages to answer with indistinguishable syllables when Louis asks him how he's doing.

Thankfully, they rode in two separate cars on their way over, and Harry has already called for one of security to bring a car around to get them. Liam stands leaned heavily against Louis' side as Zayn ruffles his short curls, grimacing when his hand meets the sweaty wetness at Liam's scalp.

“Feel better, big guy,” Zayn says. “Sleep it off.” He turns to Louis then, and Louis cuts him off before he can even start, assuring him, “I've got him, really. Go have fun, and absolutely I'll call if needed.”

Zayn smiles then, stepping in to give each Liam and Louis half hugs and press kisses to their cheeks. “Jesus, he is really burning up,” Zayn comments as he opens the car door for them.

Louis guides Liam in, getting a dubious look from Jon in the rearview mirror when Liam just sort of collapses onto the back seat. “He's ill,” Louis snaps defensively. “Take us back to the hotel. Quickly, please.”

Jon raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask any questions as he makes his way through traffic.

“Just want. Want to get. Bed. Louis,” Liam mumbles nonsensically.

“Shh, almost there,” Louis soothes, rubbing at his arm, his neck.

“I'm so hot,” he complains. He shifts unexpectedly, one leg slung carelessly over Louis' lap as he reclines against the door, tugging his shirt up restlessly.

Louis grabs at his undershirt, says, “Gotta leave this on at least, Liam,” as he helps Liam pull his long-sleeved shirt over his head.

“No, 'm too hot, Lou,” Liam grumbles, tugging that up too, high enough that Louis can see the flush that carries down past his chest.

“Yes,” Louis says, yanking the shirt back in place as gently as he can while still freeing it from Liam's grasp. “When we get to the room you can take it all off, babe. You gotta keep your clothes on for now though.”

“Don't want to,” he complains, and when he pulls the shirt up again, Louis just lets him, sighing. He's not going to fight with him about it. As long as he keeps it on part of the way, Louis should be able to get him covered back up before they have to sneak their way into the hotel.

The rest of the way back is mostly quiet, just Liam breathing heavily. Louis pretends not to notice the way Liam is rubbing at himself, palms sliding from his throat all the way down to beneath his trousers and up again, rubbing at his flushed skin. It's a comfort thing, or something, Louis doesn't even know, but it's keeping Liam calm and quiet, so whatever.

Someone has apparently called ahead to distract the crowd of fangirls waiting out in front of the hotel because Josh is standing out there, shirtless and barefoot signing autographs and none of them even look in the direction of the horribly nondescript black sedan with darkly tinted windows that rolls past.

“Louis, want you,” Liam groans to himself.

“I'm right here, babe. I've got you, don't worry. You're going to be okay,” Louis says reassuringly as they pull into the underground car park. Everything goes a bit dark as they drive in, the artificial lighting playing sort of creepily against Liam's dark pupils and sweat-shiny skin. He squeezes Liam's thigh and smiles at him as calmly as he can manage.

“Need you. I need you so much, Louis,” Liam moans, head thunking back against the window.

Louis catches Jon's eye in the rearview mirror again, sees his raised eyebrow, and glares menacingly at the sod. Poor Liam is sick, for fuck's sake, he can't help it if his moaning sounds oddly sexual. Is a little bit of compassion for the lad too much to ask for?

“Nearly there now, darling.”

Liam's eyes open, half-mast and impossibly dark, and Louis looks away, uncomfortable with how intently Liam seems to stare at him in his fevered daze. Liam grabs Louis' hand and trails it up his chest with his own, over the slick skin, and down again, down his belly, almost into his pants, but Louis resists that, shooting Liam an incredulous look that he doesn't seem to comprehend as he continues to make Louis touch him.

Jon gets out of the car, startling Louis when the slam of the door echos loudly. He's got a good parking spot near the lift, and Louis has to wrench his hand out of Liam's grip.

“We're here. You still alright to walk?”

“Get my clothes off. Just want you to take it all off me,” Liam whines.

“Yeah, yeah. In the room, I promise. Keep it on just a bit longer, okay?”

Manhandling Liam out of the car, to the lift, and up to their rooms is a goddamn chore and a half. Jon is nowhere in sight to help, and Louis is cussing up a storm about the bloody incompetent arsehole of a security person. Liam is no help at all; he's fucking drunk and handsy and fever hot, and when he's not trying to take off his own clothes, he's pulling at Louis', making this weird humming noise in his throat every time Louis has to roughly get him back on task.

As soon as the light blinks green on the door lock to Louis' room, he shoves Liam inside and groans in relief at getting them there unsighted and alive. Of course, Liam just stands there, quiet and still, once they're in the room.

“Are you feeling better?” Louis asks hopefully and Liam glances at him, heavily lidded eyes widening slightly.

“Louis, it hurts,” he whimpers.

“Where's it hurt, babe?” he asks, stepping forward to comfort Liam with an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Everywhere. I'm so hot all over,” he replies miserably as he turns into Louis' hold, shoving his body fully up against Louis'.

“I'm sorry.” Louis doesn't know what else to say, but he is truly apologetic for his friend's discomfort, wants nothing more than to help him. “We'll get your clothes off and put you to bed, how's that sound?”

Liam whimpers, nodding against Louis' neck. “Yes, please. In. Louis, need you inside.”

“I'll stay with you, don't worry. I won't leave you like this,” Louis whispers, guiding Liam back towards the bed.

Liam sits heavily, falling back as soon as Louis peels his damp t-shirt from his body. His hips arch up helpfully as Louis moves to open up his trousers to pull them off too, lastly sliding his socks off his feet.

“Help me out now, budge up so we can sleep.”

Liam groans in his throat, eyes closed as he bucks his hips up against the air. “Pants off. Louis, get them off, they hurt.”

Louis sighs, shaking his head. “We're sharing, remember. Don't tell me you've turned into Hazza now.”

“Lou, hurts so much,” Liam chokes out, pushing at his boxers, which Louis notices are straining kind of strangely. “Hurts a lot right here,” he whines before he lewdly grabs at himself, fist curling around what Louis suddenly realizes is undeniably an erection.

His eyes widen with shock and he sputters, nearly shouting at Liam to ask if he's having Louis on, because this. This is all getting more and more mad as each minutes passes, but before he can manage to form a single word, Liam is pushing his pants down his legs, freeing up his ― indeed, very obvious ― erection. It lies against Liam's stomach, flushed dark red, looking so painfully hard, that Louis' own cock twitches in sympathy.

“Hurts the worst here,” Liam says, reaching further between his legs, spreading them wide to get a better feel. And Louis can see him petting at his tight pink hole, pushing at the furl of skin as if he means to get his dry fingers in there.

Louis turns away quickly once it registers what he's seeing. His hand flies to his mouth and his eyes close tightly.

Maybe he's the one with the fever, because what is even fucking happening here. This is ― it's fucking _insane_.

“Louis, please,” Liam mewls.

“Liam, what are you–” Louis chokes on the words as he tries to force them out, to ask Liam what the _fuck_ he is doing. “What are you _doing_?” he whispers, unable to speak any louder.

Behind him, Liam makes a humming sound, and when Louis chances a glance over his shoulder, he regrets it because just as he looks, Liam is pulling his spit-slick fingers from his mouth and spreading his legs wider, reaching between. Louis means to look away, he _wants_ to look away ― this isn't Liam, whatever is going on here, it isn't right and it's not his friend, because Liam would never. He would never. But he is, he's sliding a finger into himself and Louis is standing right there, staring, unable to look away.

It's a simultaneous feeling of _wrong_ and _want_ that curls in Louis' stomach and as many times as he tells himself to look away, he just can't, watching as Liam's body opens up around his finger, sliding in to the knuckle, and Liam's hips stutter upward, canting high at the feeling.

“Louis, please,” Liam repeats, and if it's possible, he somehow sounds more desperate than before.

“What. What do you need?” he hears himself ask hesitantly. He's terrified of what the answer may be, but still, he finds himself turning to face Liam on the bed once again, taking a slow step forward.

“I don't know,” Liam sobs. One finger is pressed deep inside and the other he'd sucked wet is tucked close beside, almost in but not quite yet. “It's not working. It still hurts. I don't know what to do.”

He pulls his finger free of himself startlingly fast and cups his hand around his so-very-hard cock, rubbing harshly with his dry palm. He makes a whining sort of sound in his throat and shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip as he throws his hands to the side, grabbing at the bedding.

His hips arch up and he's suddenly even closer to Louis, his arse settled to the edge of the bed. One of his legs kicks out and wraps around the back of Louis' thighs, not even just urging him in, but _pulling_ , demanding him to move forward, until his clothed thighs are pressed between Liam's naked ones.

“Louis,” he gasps.

“What is wrong with you?” Louis asks, terrified for his friend.

Liam's eyes open, meeting Louis' instantly, and he looks completely wrecked, pupils blown so wide, black with lust and intent and absolute need. “I don't know,” he says, and he's scared, underneath it all ― the fever and the need and whatever this is, whatever is happening, beneath that is Liam, scared.

“Liam, I don't know what to do,” Louis admits, hands curled into fists against the desire to touch, to comfort. “Just tell me what you need, I'll do anything.”

“Touch me,” Liam pleads, the words falling out of his mouth almost unbidden, like an instantaneous reaction to Louis' offer, as if he had been just waiting to hear Louis say he would give Liam anything he wanted.

“This isn't...” Louis trails off, unable to decide between _right_ and _you_ because this isn't right, and it's not Liam, something is very much wrong. He's been drugged with something, Louis really has no idea what, or how, but at some point, someone must have slipped it to him, and now he's this. Shameless and begging for Louis to touch him, needy and naked and writhing against the bed.

“Please,” Liam begs. “Just, do anything. I need to get off, and I _can't_.”

“You haven't tried,” Louis says, shaking his head.

At that, Liam flails, grabbing roughly at his cock again. “I can't,” he groans. “It hurts, feels wrong. Need you to.”

“Christ, okay. Okay,” he mutters, steeling himself for what he's about to do.

It's not that he doesn't want to ― he's seen Liam, alright, and of course he wants to, but not like this. Yet, he's reaching out, trailing his fingers along the silky-smooth skin stretched tight over his too-hard shaft, the heat burning against his fingertips.

The sound Liam makes from even the lightest contact startles Louis into pulling his hand away. “No, no, no,” Liam gasps. “Please, Louis, please. Do it hard, I need to–” The rest of the words are lost in a moan when Louis grabs onto his cock, stroking him firmly from base to tip and back again.

“Is it okay? Are you sure you want–”

“Yes. Fuck, Louis, get me off. Make me come,” he says through gritted teeth. Louis stares down at him, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. Liam doesn't seem to notice, oblivious as he is with his eyes locked on Louis' hand on his cock.

Louis does as he's asked, wanking Liam quick and rough, not at all how he likes it himself, but Liam is whimpering and moaning, making a sticky mess of his stomach and Louis' hand with the amount of pre-come dribbling out at an almost constant stream. It's an awkward handjob, really, and Louis feels like he's doing it all wrong, but every time he so much as slows down, Liam is whining and arching up off the bed to get more. The only warning at all that he's any closer to getting off is how he almost takes over, fucking Louis' fist even more roughly, muscles rippling throughout his body.

It's no wonder he'd been practically in tears, if the load he loses all over his stomach is anything to go by, his balls must having fucking _hurt_ from the amount of come pent up in there. Liam seems altogether unfazed by his orgasm, though, breathing and moaning through it the same as before, and then settling back to rest on the bed, staring at Louis' fist around his still twitching cock.

Louis, for his part, is not unfazed. His own balls are aching a bit, but he ignores it, in favor of making sure that Liam is still alright. Maybe he's better now that he's gotten off, maybe that's all he needed. He reaches out the hand that isn't filthy with come to stroke at Liam's arm, but he's stopped halfway there, Liam's fingers wrapping around his wrist.

For a moment, Louis is terrified that Liam has snapped out of it and is upset with him, but then he catches Liam's eye and sees that the look there hasn't changed at all and he's terrified for a whole different reason. With a nudge from Liam's hand, Louis is pushed back a few steps and staring down at Liam from a whole new angle. Liam is on his knees before him and hastily reaching for the fastenings on Louis' trousers.

“Whoa, hey,” Louis snaps, hands shooting out to block his movements. “This was about getting you off, not me.”

Liam shakes his head, frustrated, looking up at Louis from where he's kneeling on the floor. “It didn't work,” he grits out from between his teeth. When Liam leans back slightly, Louis follows the line of his body down, down to where his cock is still straining stiffly outward, that deep flush evident, so fucking painful looking.

Louis breathes out loudly, grabs onto Liam's wrists to steady himself. He wonders if he should be calling someone, getting help, because he knows something's wrong, has known all along, but he can also guess how Liam would react to the suggestion. When he comes out of this, Louis can only imagine how embarrassed Liam's going to be with just Louis knowing.

“How will this help _you_?” Louis asks.

“I don't know,” Liam answers honestly. “I think I need it, Lou. Please, you have to give it to me. Let me suck you.”

The words coming out of his mouth, they're everything Louis could ever want to hear, but he shakes his head, pushing that thought away. He lays his hand gently across Liam's cheek, thumb brushing over his abused bottom lip as he says, “You don't want this. Babe, you've got something in your system, and I don't want you to do something you're gonna regret.”

Liam makes a disgruntled sound in his throat, glaring up at Louis. “Louis, you don't understand. It hurts, I _need_ it. You have to let me, you're helping me.” His voice, so earnest, dips with arousal, going lower toward the end. “I won't regret it. Look at me, Lou, I'm begging for it. I need your cock in my mouth, need to swallow your come.”

Louis practically chokes on his tongue at that. He never imagined Liam being capable of dirty talk, and shamefully, the filth sliding off of his tongue is working for Louis, working so well. It hardly even matters that Liam would never talk like this sober, without some strange drug in his system making him behave this way.

This time, when Liam moves to pull open his trousers, Louis doesn't stop him, just watches with a hint of fascination as Liam sets to it. His movements are erratic, desperate, and once he's pushed Louis' trousers and pants to his ankles, he gets even more worked up, whimpering at the sight of Louis' cock alone.

There's no hesitation in the way he reaches out to touch, and his mouth is open wide, ready, when he guides Louis forward with a hand on the arse. Louis, for some reason, still expects him to go slow ― he doubts Liam's ever sucked a cock in his life, he'll probably want to get used to it a bit ― but instead he takes Louis all the way to the root in one quick motion.

“Jesus, Liam, fuck,” he gasps, losing his balance at the overload of sensation.

Liam takes a firm hold on Louis' arse, fingers gripping at his flesh hard enough to bruise as he holds Louis in place. Even his mouth feels over-hot, wetter than Louis' ever felt a mouth before, like it's gone hot and wet just from the taste of Louis on his tongue.

There's nothing uncertain about the way Liam goes for it, sliding Louis from his throat 'til the tip is just between his lips, inhaling sharply and swallowing before plunging down again, groaning with a rush of vibrations that shake Louis to the core as his nose nudges against Louis' stomach.

“Fucking hell,” Louis pants, clinging onto Liam's shoulder. “I'm not going to last at a– all,” he stutters on a moan, “if you keep it up like that.”

Liam nods his head as much as he can, looking up at Louis with lust dark eyes, and in that look, Louis knows that it's what Liam wants ― wants Louis to come quick, to taste him and swallow him down.

“Okay,” Louis says, more to center himself than to acknowledge Liam's desires, but it seems to work for them both.

One of the hands on Louis' arse drops between them, and Louis can see the movements of Liam's arm, his shoulder, can hear the sound of skin on skin, and knows that he's wanking, going at it even more roughly than Louis had before. That only spurs him on, pushing him closer to his imminent orgasm.

“Okay,” he pants. “Okay, okay. Liam.”

Liam eases up just a bit, grabs a hold of Louis by the base of his cock with the hand that's not jerking himself off, and sucks at what his hand doesn't cover. Louis comes in his mouth, fighting to keep his eyes open the whole time to watch the way Liam swallows at it hungrily, moaning his pleasure. Unsteady on his feet, Louis has to brace himself on Liam's shoulders to keep his knees from giving out, completely overwhelmed by the orgasm that Liam sucked straight out of him.

He's hunched over enough that Liam can stretch up and catch his mouth in a kiss, and it startles Louis a bit, but not enough to make him pull away. He sinks into it, really, humming his own content, minutely forgetting Liam's problem until he starts panting heavily into the kiss, the sound of his frantic wanking growing louder.

The kiss is broken when they both look down to see Liam spurting another load of come onto his belly, shooting so hard that Louis thinks it must feel fucking ridiculously good, but again, Liam is just watching blankly, hardly making any sounds of pleasure at all.

Distantly, Louis already knows, can feel it in the air that something is still off, but when Liam looks up at him, there's no doubt in his mind. It didn't work. Liam is still not... Liam. And he looks so exhausted suddenly that it makes Louis' heart clench up in his chest, the way he's sort of sagged there against the side of the bed, chest heaving and ripe red.

“Maybe it's time we call someone, Li,” he says quietly, to which Liam immediately shakes his head.

“No,” he chokes out. “Louis, you know you have to. You have to be inside. It's the only way. Need you to fuck me, it's what I've needed all along.”

He drags himself up onto the bed, draping himself across it limply, arse in the air. He reaches back and spreads himself open, fingertips playing at his hole. “Please just do it. I can feel how badly I need it. Fuck me with your fingers and then fuck me with your cock, Lou, come inside me. It's what I need.”

Louis shuts his eyes tightly against the image before him, Liam holding himself spread apart, hole twitching needfully every time one of his fingers plays over it. The words falling from Liam's lips are only making it worse ― _fuck_ and _cock_ and _come_ and _fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck me_.

He's got lube in his bag, and Liam is saying, “Yes, yes,” when he hears Louis rustling around. It feels so fucking horribly wrong to want this, to give in, but he doesn't know what else to do. He's scared that Liam might never get better if he doesn't give him what he wants, and at least ― at the very, very least, if there's any good side at all ― it's Louis. At least it's not some random, or the same sick fuck that drugged him in the first place. It's Louis, and he's safe, and Louis can help him, can make him better. Hopefully, in the end, that'll hold ― Louis was just trying to help.

It's true, of course. He wants nothing more than for Liam to feel better, to be free of this hold, to be _Liam_ and uptight and a bit of a twat and sweet and kind and not this slutty wanton mess trying to shove his own fingers up his needy arse, but Louis loves him, no matter what, he loves him so much and he hopes Liam will feel the same. Will love him even though Louis is hard again, wanting to fuck his willing body to the brink. Louis plans on fucking this drug right out of him.

He's got his fingers slicked up, and he has to push Liam's out of the way to get them inside. And God, he's hot. Like his mouth, he feels too warm inside, unnaturally so, and one finger goes in so easily, Liam's body opening up to him like it was made to, clenching down only in need, not nerves. He's so easy to get ready, and so quick to beg for cock ― _“More, Louis, fuck me. More, give me your cock.”_

Louis shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “Almost there, love,” he reassures, pushing three fingers in as deep as they'll go and then sliding them free. He has to be quick about it to keep Liam from putting his own fingers back into himself. Like he had before, with his mouth, he takes Louis easily, takes his whole cock in one effortlessly move. When it's all inside, he clamps down tight, holding Louis in place for the most anguishing moment and then mewls, a high and thin sound in his throat.

Louis doesn't wait for his begging, just grabs onto his hips as harshly as he dares ― not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to mark; not like this, not when it's the drug more than Liam that he's fucking. He listens for cues, to know if he's going too hard, too fast, too much, _stop_ , but that never comes, just encouraging sounds, desperate pleadings for moremoremore, until Louis is growing tired, close to spending again.

Liam manages to hitch his knees under himself, changing the angle just enough that Louis is sure to be pounding against his sweet spot relentlessly, and with his hips in the air, there's enough room for his hand to get at his dick.

That does it. Really, it's just a few short minutes, a couple more urgent thrusts, but it feels like it drags out forever. Louis is goddamn close, sore, tired, and he _needs_ this to work, needs for Liam to come for real this time, to kick this drug from his system.

And when it happens, when he's finally there, it hits Liam like a freight train. His entire body bows, muscles locking up so tight Louis thinks he might break something. He comes with spasms that shake the whole bed, working and pulling Louis' orgasm right out of him.

And when it's over, there's nothing left but sweat and weariness and possibly a few tears of _please, please, please, let everything be okay._

“Louis,” he hears quietly, the barest of whispers.

It's the only reassurance he gets before Liam is a limp heap of cooling skin and heavy bones against Louis. There's a loud sigh against his collarbone, and then Liam is still, breathing deeply.

It worked. It must have. It had to.

Liam is asleep against his chest, peaceful and soft and only slightly warm to the touch. Louis wants to be relieved, happy that Liam isn't fever hot any more, and mostly he is, but there's that niggling fear at the back of his mind that not everything is okay, because there is more than just a small chance that Liam is going to wake up and hate Louis for what he's done. That thought alone is enough to keep Louis awake, though he is tired, exhausted.

Eventually, Louis can't just lie still any longer. He hesitates before he shifts Liam off his chest and onto the pillows, worried about waking him and bringing on the inevitable before he really has to. Liam does nothing more than snuffle against the pillows and then he's completely still again.

Louis tries not to think as he moves around the room, picking up discarded clothing and folding it piece by piece. Straightening up the room doesn't take nearly enough thought or time, and once that's finished, he orders up some food, hoping to settle his stomach at least slightly. He showers while he waits, and once the food is in front of him, he's pretty certain he's not going to be able to stomach it. He picks at it a bit before finally crawling back into bed, careful not to jostle Liam.

Louis wakes to someone shaking his shoulder. He shrugs away from it tiredly, then jerks awake rather harshly at the memory of the night before.

When his eyes open, it's only Harry standing over him, and with a quick glance to the opposite side of the bed, he finds that Liam is still soundly asleep.

“Just thought we'd check in. You never responded to any of our texts.”

Louis glances over Harry's shoulder to see Zayn and Niall both standing in the hallway.

“Sorry,” Louis whispers back guiltily. “I don't even know where my phone is.”

Harry shakes his head before he looks over to Liam. “Well, he's sleeping. That's good?”

Louis nods. “Yeah. Yeah, he's alright. I think he'll be okay in the morning.”

“Okay. You're not forgiven for worrying us, but you look tired, so get some sleep, Boo Bear,” Harry says, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis' forehead.

Louis squeezes his wrist and nods again. The worry is back in his gut like a dead weight, but he tries to push it aside as he waves to the boys when they leave his room.

―

Louis dozes off again eventually, but it's a short-lived, half-arsed sort of sleep that leaves him feeling not the least bit rested.

It's Liam that wakes him. Not on purpose. No, he's trying to leave the bed quietly, but Louis is half-awake as it is, and the slightest movement brings him to full awareness instantly.

In the middle of a debate with himself over whether he should pretend he's still asleep or just sit up and get it over with, Liam casts a look over his shoulder and catches Louis staring at his back.

Really, it doesn't take more than a look for Louis to know that Liam remembers everything. It's obvious in the crease of his forehead and the pucker between his eyebrows, the tightness at the corners of his mouth and along his hunched shoulders.

“Um,” Liam says, then bites his lip, releasing it quickly when his teeth dig into the already bruised skin and he licks over it instead, wincing.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks.

Liam looks away before he nods, just a jerky bob of his head, and Louis' stomach sinks because Liam can't even look at him, can't speak to him.

“I'm sorry,” Louis says hurriedly. “Fucking hell, Liam, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have–”

“You're sorry?” Liam asks sharply, cutting Louis off before he can finish, and Louis flinches at his words, his tone. “The things I made you do. Louis, I... I don't even know how to apologize for that.”

“What?” Louis asks blankly, taken back.

Liam turns to face him, his face creased with his honest remorse. “I'm so sorry for all those things I made you do. I– I have no idea what happened to me, I don't know how I got that way, and it's... Disgusting, what I made you do. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You didn't make me do anything. Liam, Christ, what the fuck? There's nothing to forgive you for, I was completely willing, but you. You... You didn't want, it was the drug, and–”

“No. You did exactly what you had to do, Louis, I know that. But I wasn't exactly unwilling. I could still feel, you know, and think, sometimes. There was some part of me still in there, and if I hadn't wanted it, I... I don't think any of that would have happened. I could have stopped it, I think. I mean, it wasn't just you, Lou, not even if I was half out of my mind, there was enough of me there to know I wanted it.”

Louis isn't exactly following what he's saying, can't quite grasp what he means. He's too busy being hopeful that Liam doesn't want to kill him. “We're okay?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Liam answers easily.

“Oh, God, Liam,” Louis says, flinging himself across the bed to hug Liam around the waist.

“We're okay,” Liam repeats, fingers sliding into Louis' hair, brushing through it slowly. “You. You were so good to me, Louis. If you're okay, so am I, and of course _we're_ okay.”

Louis hugs him tighter, face pressing into Liam's stomach. He absolutely clings to him, so grateful and relieved. Liam is okay; they're okay. He hugs him until Liam gently pushes him back, and lays down beside him once again. Louis is distracted with hugging him still from their new side by side position to realize what's coming, and he startles when Liam's lips press lightly to his own.

“We're more than okay,” Liam whispers.

Louis chases after his mouth when he moves to pull away, slanting their lips together for another kiss. It's just light, sweet, like first kisses are supposed to be. Still, Louis can't help the worry that starts to gnaw at him as soon as the thought comes.

He pulls back to meet Liam's eyes, and they're chocolate brown, warm and soft, so very _Liam_ but he has to be sure. “Do you still want me to fuck the come right out of you?” he asks, watching closely.

Liam's eyes go wide, his cheeks staining red, and Louis laughs, delighted. “Okay, good, just checking,” he says, kissing Liam's slack mouth lightly.


End file.
